by Lynn Donovan
Table of Content
Copyright
Appreciation
Dedication
Lynn Donovan’s Newsletter
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Personal Note from the Author
About the Author
Newsletter and Free Book
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
The Belles of Wyoming
©2020 Lynn Donovan
Cover Design by Virginia McKevitt
Editing by Cyndi Rule
BETA read by Amy Petrovich
Appreciation
Thank you to everybody in my life who has contributed in one way or another to the writing of this book. My husband, my children, my children-in-law, and my grandchildren. You all are my unconditional fans. My BETA reader and grammar guru who make me look gooder than I am. [Bad grammar intended.] My fellow author friends who chat with me daily to exchange ideas, encourage, maintain sanity, and keep me from being a total recluse/hermit.
Mostly I thank God for the talent he has given me. I hope to hear you say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” when I cross the Jordan and run into your arms—Many, many years from now. :).
Dedication
To Sheri, who found her mountain man and kept him very well all these years.
Lynn Donovan’s Newsletter
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Introduction
Timothy Moses has loved Nellie Harris from afar most of his life. He’s told his family repeatedly that he would marry the pretty, but spirited city girl, much to their amusement. As he’s fighting illness to check his traps in the middle of a snowstorm, who does he find half frozen in a ball gown on his mountain but his precious Nellie. He brings her home and warms her up. As she recovers, he succumbs to his own illness.
Nellie surprises herself when her mountain man becomes deathly ill and rises to the occasion, learning and loving the mountain way of life and healing. Earning the respect of the whole Moses family. Most surprising to Nellie is that her love for Timothy has brought her a whole new attitude.
Can Nellie and Timothy live together as husband and wife in his mountain cabin? Now that the snowstorm is over and Timothy is well, can she continue to be satisfied with life in the mountains. Where their way of life is “The Mountain Provides.” Can Nellie’s New Attitude survive the temptation to return to her city life or will she become Mrs. Timothy Moses, a mountain man’s wife?
Prologue
Belle, Wyoming, late June 1881
Nellie Harris smiled her prettiest smile as she squeezed Hoyt’s hands, drawing his attention back to her. Pastor Elkins repeated, “Do you, Hoyt Levi Cole, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Hoyt licked his lips. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. He glanced at May Tanner. She nodded as if she knew what his hesitation was about. Why was she prompting Nellie’s groom? Nellie glared at May.
Hoyt turned to look at his mother and father on the front row. Anxious eyebrows rose on both their faces. Turning back to the pastor, Hoyt cleared his throat.
Nellie adjusted her chin and put her perfect smile back in place. It’s alright. He’s just nervous. All grooms are nervous when they get married. Everything is fine. She tried to convince herself.
He uttered, “No. I do not.”
Nellie gasped!
The congregation gasped!
Her daddy leapt to his feet. Hoyt’s father stood.
Hoyt dipped his head to level his eyes with Nellie’s. He squeezed her hands. She sighed in relief. He was just kidding! Now he’ll tell everyone he was kidding.
At last he spoke, “I-I don’t love you, Nellie. I love May.”
Nellie couldn’t believe her ears. He was not doing this in front of God and everybody from Belle, Wyoming. Her family. His family. He couldn’t! How dare he!
She stamped her foot. “WHAT?”
“I’m sorry.” Hoyt pulled away from her vise grip and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Sorry!” Nellie screeched. “You’re sorry? We had an agreement! My daddy’s money to save your stupid, stinky ranch, in exchange for you to marry me! You’re supposed to make me happy for the rest of my life, Hoyt Cole!” Her voice became louder and higher. But she didn’t care! She turned to her parents.
“Go ahead, Daddy! Take their ranch. Build your railroad right through the middle of their house, for all I care. Ruin them! I hate Hoyt Cole! I hate every last one of them!”
Her Daddy rushed to her. Now Hoyt will be sorry! She collapsed into her daddy’s arms, but he pushed her back. He turned to Hoyt’s daddy, instead, who had rushed to Hoyt’s side.
“What’s this?” Oliver Cole uttered.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Oliver. You know what a… you know how my daughter is. I’m sorry. We can resolve this.”
“Daddy, No! I overheard you tell Claude Goodman you were gonna help the Cole’s so you can have leverage and can run the railroad tracks through twenty acres of their land and not have to—”
“Hush, Nellie!” Her daddy shook her. He’d never handled her like this in her life! She went silent.
“You heard wrong!” He turned to Hoyt’s daddy. “I assure you. She’s hysterical. Listen to me. We are cousins. Family. I’ll help you, Oliver. You won’t lose the ranch. I promise. And I’m not trying to trick you out of any acres for the railroad.”
Her daddy glared at her.
Betrayed by her own father, she turned to her mother and ran into her open arms, sobbing. The congregation sat in stunned horror.
Hoyt’s voice wafted into her hearing. “Pa, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t go through with it.”
Oliver Cole spoke, “Don’t worry about it, son.”
Don’t worry about it! Nellie turned to the Cole men. She wanted to scream foul obscenities, but her mother yanked her back and shoved her onto the pew. “Sit down!”
And then Oliver Cole punched her daddy in the jaw! Her daddy fell like a timber log.
Nellie leapt to her feet and screeched, “Daddy!”
Just when things could not get any worse or more embarrassing… Hoyt went down on one knee and proposed to May!
Nellie cried, “Mommy! How could he? Stop them! Don’t let this happen to me!”
But her mother just hissed, “Shhh!”
Nellie scanned the congregants. No one moved. No one spoke a word. Her search landed on the pastor. He shrugged with an I’ve-seen-it-all-this-is-nothing type of g
rin. “Well, we’re already here.”
Hoyt’s pa nodded. “Son. This arrangement wasn’t what I thought it was. You do what your heart tells you to. As far as the ranch goes, we’ll figure something out.”
Hoyt turned back to May. “We’ll figure something out.”
May’s papa let out a whoop. “Well, go on, May Flower. Say yes!”
Some people chuckled.
Nellie crumpled to the floor, sobbing into her hands. She was humiliated to the core of her being. She hated Hoyt and his family. She hated May Tanner. She hated the people sitting in the pews. Nobody gave a hoot how humiliated Nellie felt. Nobody!
“Yes. I’ll marry you.” Nellie heard May say it! How dare she steal her groom? Right here in front of everybody!
The congregants laughed. They were laughing at Nellie! The wrong bride. The jilted bride. She lifted her head. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Even her parents had betrayed her. She had to get out of this chapel!
She crawled between the pews toward the wall.
The ceremony went on. Her ceremony! But it was Hoyt and May who the pastor spoke to. Nellie made it to the wall, she turned and continued crawling, pulling her dress up above her knees, so she could move forward. Inch by inch, she manage to slink ahead like a weasel, until she got to the door. She scrambled to her feet and dashed outside just as the pastor said, “Ladies and Gentleman, may I introduce for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt Cole.”
Nellie ran as hard as she could. Tears streaming down her face. Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt Cole! That should have been her and Hoyt.
The few people who had not gone to her wedding stopped on the street to stare at the jilted bride who ran away from the little chapel on the hill. They were all laughing. Laughing at her! The rejected bride.
She burned with humiliation. Somehow, some way, she’d make them pay. Someday, they would be sorry they laughed at Nellie Harris.
She spied one of her daddy’s men’s horses. She looked around for the man, but he was nowhere. She bit her lip and leapt into the saddle. The horse whinnied and shuffled, but she kicked his ribs as hard as she could in slippers and pulled his reins hard to the right.
The horse obeyed. She dashed through town toward her home. Daddy would take care of the man’s inconvenience. She leapt from the horse, her skirts gathered in her hands, and ran into her house to her room where she collapsed on her bed and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter One
Belle, Wyoming, January 1882
“I want to be the Belle of the Sweetheart’s Dance, Miss Tillie.” Nellie Harris flipped open the topmost magazine in a stack she had carried into the Pettigrew sisters’ dress shop. “Now, look here. I’ve saved every New York Fashion Magazine over the past year. I want a gown made out of the finest, flowing fabric… you know, a silk blend, and lace! Tons and tons of lace,” she squealed.
Tillie Pettigrew listened attentively, nodding every so often.
“I want to walk into that Dance and every eye turn to me.” Nellie pressed her fingertips against her chest, emphasizing the attention she desired. “I’ll show them… I’ll show everybody! I am no longer Nellie Harris, the jilted bride! I’m Nellie Harris, most beautiful, desirable woman in Belle County! All the single men will want a dance with me! And one lucky fellow will win my heart and ask me to marry him!”
Tillie dared a glance to her sister, who rolled her eyes.
Nellie spun around, knocking over a spool tree. Little wooden spools rolled across the floor. Mavis Pettigrew gasped and scrambled to catch them before they rolled under her wardrobe. “Oh, Miss Harris! Do be careful!”
“I’m sorry.” Nellie turned the page in her magazine. “This! This is what I want, only more lace, and I want the train to trail out behind me, like a royal princess. You’ll need to order extra material!
“Well, I—” Miss Tillie hesitated.
“No. I mean it!” Nellie planted her fists on her hips. “I want plenty of material to make this dress the biggest belled skirt, the most distinguished bustle, the longest train. You can’t just put one bolt into it. It’s gotta be more!”
Tillie opened her mouth, but then closed it and tucked her chin down to her chest. “Yes, Miss Harris.”
Mavis turned and left the front room. Tillie darted her eyes to the swinging curtain through which her sister had exited. Worry pulled her brow into a furrow over her nose.
“My daddy will pay you for the fabric, all eighteen yards of it! You know he will! Now, let’s talk color. I want a blue that will accentuate my eyes.” She fluttered her lashes. “And the lace should be…” She flipped the pages. “Like this! A soft cream to contrast the blue and make it stand out.” She glanced up at the seamstress. “You see what I mean?”
Miss Tillie nodded while chewing her bottom lip. “Yes. And since this Dance is February fourteenth, we need to get this ordered right away. I will measure you today, and start on a broadcloth underlay—”
“No!” Nellie yelled. “I want a SILK lined underlay!”
“But!” Miss Tillie looked around the store. “I have some nice cream silk, here. I can get started on your gown before the beautiful top fabric comes in. It’ll take about a week.”
Nellie eyed the cream silk with disgust.
“Miss Harris. It’s the foundation of the gown. No one will see it. And this is an excellent silk for just such a thing. It’ll be soft as a rose petal against your skin.” She gazed at Nellie’s disbelief. “Trust me, dear. You will look like the Belle of the Dance. I assure you.”
Nellie sighed. “Alright. Measure me. And get those bolts ordered.”
Miss Tillie turned to a desk and wrote her order down, placed it in an envelope and sealed it with a drop of wax and a press. She addressed it to her supplier in New York City and stepped out her shop’s door. Placing two fingers in her mouth, Tillie whistled a shrill that could be heard for a country mile. Nellie blinked in surprise.
A boy ran to her. “Yes, Miss Pettigrew?”
“Mitchell, take this to the post office immediately. It must go out on the East-bound this afternoon.” She placed the envelope and a coin in his hand.
“Yes ma’am.” He tipped his newsboy hat and ran off.
Miss Tillie smiled at the slender mountain man lingering outside her shop. His eyes gave away his lack of years that his beard covered up. “You’re Timothy Moses, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Did you need anything?”
He pulled his hat down over his brow and stared at the boardwalk. “No ma’am.”
Miss Tillie nodded and turned back to Nellie, closing the shop door. “There. Now let’s get you measured and I’ll start on that foundation right away.”
“Good. And don’t let anybody see what my gown looks like! I want it to be a complete surprise when I walk in.” Nellie’s smile filled her face as she stepped behind the modesty curtain to undress.
“Of course.” Miss Tillie gathered her note card for Nellie, a pencil, and her measuring tape.
May Cole strolled through the General Store, looking at the hair accessories and what nots with no intent to buy anything other than what Mrs. Franklin had written down. Olivia Stewart, one of the owners, gathered the items from the list May had given her. “Where’s Hoyt?”
May turned from her dreamy wishing. “Oh, he’s gone down to the smithy while I shop. We are going to have lunch at the diner.”
“Oh, you’ll enjoy today’s special. It’s bear stew.” Mrs. Stewart smiled and went back to gathering the supplies.
May swallowed against the instant nausea. “That sounds delicious.” She swallowed again. “Somebody kill that one that’s been getting in the refuse barrels?”
Mrs. Stewart chuckled. “I suppose so.”
A bell above the entry door tinkled and Mavis Pettigrew scurried in, hurrying straight to the threads and pins. “I’m in a hurry, Olivia. Put six spools of thread on my bill.”
“Will do.” Mrs. Stewart spoke over her shoulder as sh
e climbed a ladder to reach the baking soda and added it to the basket on her arm.
A new display of buttons caught Miss Mavis’s eye. She bent to look them over.
“You and Hoyt going to the Sweetheart’s Dance?” Mrs. Stewart glanced at May.
May looked up with her mouth open. “Uh, no, probably not. That’s for the suitors and suitees, isn’t it?”
“P-shaw! Heavens no! It’s for everybody in town. You and Hoyt are sweethearts! Of course you two can come.”
May nodded. “Well, I’ll let him know.”
Mrs. Stewart walked up to May. “What’s the matter, dear?”
May smiled, but sadness filled her eyes. “I don’t know that I have an appropriate gown to wear. All I got is that tuxedo gown I wore at our wedding.”
“That was for Nellie’s wedding!” Mrs. Stewart grumbled. “You need a new gown all your own.”
May pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe the Pettigrew shop will have some ready-mades I could buy.”
Miss Mavis slid up beside May. “You know, we’re going to have some extra material that a customer has already paid for, but, I assure you, she will not need all of it. How about you come by our shop and I’ll see what I can do with the leftover. I’ll bet I can fix you up something really pretty. It’s the Sweetheart’s Dance after all, even a married woman needs to look her best. I think I can keep it at a very reasonable price, too. Don’t you worry. That fabric’s already paid for, all I’ve gotta charge you is my time.”
May smiled. “Well… thank you, but I don’t know.”
“Come on! What else am I going to do with all that extra fabric? And it will be my pleasure to make you something nice. Besides, your parents and us Pettigrews go way back. Just think of me as the aunt who never did get you nothing for your nuptials. Oh, please let me do this as a belated wedding present.”